


Sick Thanksgiving (21 & 22/30)

by haisai_andagii



Series: Relation-Sh*t Tumblr 30 Day Fic Challenge [22]
Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3734317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy Lebeau is a man who enjoys fine wines, rare jewels, and several sex acts that would make the scribes of Urban Dictionary blush.  And Pietro is not happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Thanksgiving (21 & 22/30)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well, I mean, I totally failed being consistent for 30 days with this challenge but I will finish nonetheless. So, this is another double challenge fic: 21 & 22 - Kink Shaming and Post Sexual Regret. That said, nothing graphic is depicted in this fic though, lol.

Figaro and Lucifer tore off bits of skin and sinew from one of the three turkey carcasses strewn about the room.  Oliver contented himself by lapped at the mashed potato hand prints above the headboard.  To a passerby, it looked like some twisted, modern culinary tribute to man's early ancestors - a cave painting that smelled faintly of butter and rosemary.

Footprints encased in sweet potato pie lined the carpet, leading a trial all the way to a bathtub of gravy, that was sloshed all over the stark, white tile.

Pietro swallowed.  Hard.  He shook as he reached for his robe, pulling it inch-by-trembling-inch onto his slight shoulders.

"Dat weren't dat bad," Remy drawled.  He ran a finger across the plains of his muscled stomach, sweeping up a mixture of marshmallow and their romantic leavings.  He suckled his finger - loudly - and pulled it from his mouth with a pop.  "Remy likes food..."

"There's something very, _very_ wrong with you..." the speedster murmured.  "I'll never be able to eat cranberry sauce ever again..."  He winced at the slick, stickiness that coated his backside as he tried to rise from the bed. 

"Ah, cher, don' be like dat..."

"Don't touch me!" Pietro yelled, pulling himself out of his lover's grasp.  "You're absolutely disgusting!  Who uses green bean casserole like _that_?!"

The Cajun's face fell. 

"You ain't complaint durin' all five courses," he growled.  "And Remy sure held his tongue when you made me dress up like that Drogo homme from Game o' Thrones and call you the Mother of Drag-"

Pietro roared, his whole face a shade of unearthly purple.

"Stuffing is meant for turkeys, not human orifices!" he screamed, throwing a crescent roll at Remy.  "This was disgusting...  You're disgusting!"

He stomped out of the room, a trail of cranberry dripping behind him.

Remy sighed and sank back into the bed.  His cats circled him, licking vigorously at the sliced almond that clung to his beard.

"Well, damn," he muttered to his brood.  "I'll leave cooking to the kitchen then..."

 

 

 


End file.
